


Through Train Rides and Polaroids (fate brings me to you)

by bunny_suho (strawberryhues)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: College AU, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Strangers to Friends, Trains, artist jongin, basically just that and nothing else, it mostly takes place on a subway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryhues/pseuds/bunny_suho
Summary: Something about the young and tan looking boy sitting across from Kyungsoo on the subway is just enthralling: the way the boy taps his toes to his music, the way the boy occasionally hums and nods along.





	Through Train Rides and Polaroids (fate brings me to you)

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the kaisoo biography fest and I am finally reposting it here. You can read the original here: http://kaisoobiography.livejournal.com/15003.html  
> 

**August**  
  
  
Kyungsoo clicks play on his music player, headphones in his ears as he waits along the platform for the train to arrive. The sky is a bright blue outside, tinged with white clouds barely visible in the clear sky. Inside—in the subway station where Kyungsoo waits—fluorescent lights hang above, mimicking the sun in the way that it brightens the area. The music running through his ears drowns out the sound of people around him until the brakes of the train echo throughout the tunnel as it pulls to a halt.  
  
  
The electric doors slide open, and people gather inside. Kyungsoo isn’t paying attention. His eyes stay on his music player as he flips through his music for the next song and clicks play yet again. It’s right when he lifts his gaze to bring himself back to his surroundings, that he catches sight of a familiar crop of black hair. Kyungsoo stops without realizing, staring at the way dark bangs fall into his eyes. His head is down as his fingers scroll through his phone, headphones in his ears. He’s wearing red converse, feet tapping and lips—pink and soft, but slightly chapped—moving like he’s singing quietly to himself. He’s nodding to the beat of whatever is going through his ears, Kyungsoo’s own music long forgotten as he continues to stare, eyes wide.  
  
  
The other looks up at him then, their eyes catching each other. It doesn’t register until he sees those plump, small lips spread into an awkward, shy smile, that Kyungsoo should probably stop staring. And _oh shit_ he was _staring_. He blinks out of his daze, the other raising a hand only slightly to give a small, awkward wave. Kyungsoo reciprocates, cheeks aflame as he gives his own small wave, and smiles sheepishly. It’s then that he thinks he should sit down and stop embarrassing himself, and he quickly follows suit.  
  
  
Kyungsoo takes a seat right by the doors, directly across from who he remembers as Jongin. He pulls out his book from his bag to read it, trying hard not to continue staring at the boy across from him. But he fails, occasionally lifting his gaze to see Jongin with his head resting against the wall behind him as he hums. And— _Fuck_ , he’s staring again.  
  
  
Kyungsoo quickly puts his head down, eyes focused on the words in his book. But he’s not reading. Instead he’s thinking about Jongin, remembering how he’s seen him around campus a few times. But this is the first time he’s ever seen him on the train, and so he can’t help but be slightly curious, slightly surprised.  
  
  
After a while, Kyungsoo’s thoughts fade. He pulls out his music player to put on a different song; a song that he typically listens to on his train rides to campus. And after doing so, he falls into his book, immersed in the stories and the music that aids to accompany the fantasy world.

  
  
///

  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t see Jongin around campus all the time. It’s only by chance; when he’s in the café at the same time, when they’re both walking in opposite directions but in the same hallway. That happens only on rare occasions. It’s a big University campus with far too many people to single out just one. And it’s not that Kyungsoo knows Jongin, or that he _wants_ to know him. It’s more along the fact that he’s never—in his two years of taking the subway to campus—seen Jongin or any other student take the same train to school. But it’s been three days now, and on each of those three days he sees Jongin every morning and late afternoon on the same train; listening to music and nodding along.  
  
  
So Kyungsoo makes a habit of wondering, and peeking up from his book (that he should really be reading) to steal a glance. And Jongin doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t seem to care. He’s always resting his head back against the window with his eyes closed, eyelashes resting gently against the skin of his cheek, or glancing down at his phone with his thumb scrolling and foot tapping. During each of these times, he’s always wearing headphones, always wearing red converses.  
  
  
Kyungsoo prefers it this way. He prefers keeping his distance from Jongin—a little shy and a little worried that what he’s doing is creepy; that Jongin _has_ noticed and that he dislikes him. But, the universe had other plans.  
  
  
Kyungsoo races to the station, panting, lungs burning as he reaches the doors. The soles of his feet burn from the constant press of concrete; his legs in the same state, not used to exercising. He barely makes it through the doors, barely makes it onto the train. But he does. And he’s met with a suffocating, tight crowd. The seats are practically all taken.  
  
  
Kyungsoo glances around, opting to stand, when he spots Jongin sitting with his backpack occupying an empty seat. And of course, in that exact moment, Jongin’s head lifts and their eyes catch. Jongin flashes a smile that shows the whites of his perfect teeth before moving his bag, and Kyungsoo hesitates momentarily before sitting.  
  
  
It’s a little unusual sitting next to Jongin (and a little uncomfortable too). Maybe it’s because Kyungsoo knows that he’s been staring at Jongin every train ride. Maybe it’s because he knows how unusual that is. Maybe it’s the fear that Jongin has noticed and will bring it up. Or… Maybe it’s the fact that there just so happened to be an open spot right next to Jongin like fate wanted it to happen. And that, Kyungsoo finds, is strange.  
  
  
“Thank you,” Kyungsoo says. Jongin smiles at him again. He can see it from the corner of his eyes, and Kyungsoo can’t help but smile back.  
  
  
“Overslept?” It takes approximately 5 seconds for Kyungsoo to register that Jongin just asked him a question, and another 5 seconds for that question to go in one ear and out the other. That makes a total of 10 seconds passing by before he glances at Jongin, their eyes locking, and Kyungsoo’s eyes widening in confusion.  
  
  
“Huh?” Jongin snickers at that.  
  
  
“I asked if you overslept,” Jongin clarifies.  
  
  
“Oh.” Kyungsoo nods. “I did. I was up late studying for a quiz and slept through my alarm.”  
  
  
Jongin hums in understanding, one headphone hanging so as to give Kyungsoo his full attention. “It happens,” he says with a shrug. Kyungsoo silently agrees, and the conversation dies.  
  
  
The remainder of the train ride is spent with silence settled between them, both off in their own world, their own spaces. Kyungsoo is acutely aware of Jongin’s presence beside him; the thought lingers in his mind the rest of the ride. He feels when Jongin’s arm presses against his own, can hear Jongin’s hums and whispered singing under his breath. Kyungsoo can smell the strong scent of Jongin’s shampoo—passion fruit, odd.  
  
  
And through all of this, they don’t speak once. Kyungsoo pretends to read while Jongin listens to music, and scrolls through his phone.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongin is the last one to enter the train today (and for a moment—in the duration of Jongin’s absence—Kyungsoo had worried he wouldn’t make it). He takes the seat across from Kyungsoo while Kyungsoo keeps his eyes on his book, staring at the words rather than reading. He chances a look, glancing up to see Jongin looking at him with his backpack in his arms and resting on his lap.  
  
  
“Hey,” Jongin says, the moment their eyes meet. Kyungsoo stills, book suddenly feeling heavy in his hands, heart stopping as fear floods in. Maybe Jongin knows; maybe Jongin is going to confront him for being weird. _Shit, shit_. He hasn’t had any confrontation before. Except for that one time when—  
  
  
“Hey,” he repeats. Kyungsoo only just now realizes that he was holding his breath, frozen solid in place.  
  
  
“H-Hey,” Kyungsoo greets. Jongin smiles and it’s wide, teeth showing and eyes crinkling. It’s a nice smile, he decides.  
  
  
Jongin points towards the book in Kyungsoo’s hand. “What are you reading?”  
  
  
“This?” Kyungsoo looks down at the book before looking back at him. “It’s just an anthropology; a bunch of short mythological stories. It’s for my literature class.”  
  
  
Jongin looks interested then—eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted. And it’s unexpected. He likes literature, isn’t a big fan of mythologies, though. But most people couldn’t care less about the subject, never showing any particular interest in reading old fiction and autobiographies. Jongin, on the other hand, is not like them, and Kyungsoo is taken aback by his comment. “Literature? I love literature.” He flashes that really nice smile again. Before Kyungsoo knows it, Jongin is plopping himself down beside him, right in the conveniently empty space.  
  
  
Jongin is close; so close that the smell of passion fruit shampoo is once again invading Kyungsoo’s nose—a heavenly scent that he finds so sweet and oh so _Jongin_. It’s just like the previous day when they sat next to each other. A slight shift, and he feels Jongin’s shoulder pressed against him, feels his body pressed into his side.  
  
  
It takes all of 15 seconds for Kyungsoo to compose himself enough to start a conversation and when he finally does, he turns to look at Jongin, their eyes meeting.  
  
  
“You like literature?” He asks, hoping to make conversation. Jongin nods in response, smile bright. And there’s something in that fact, in Jongin’s interest, (in Jongin’s _smile_ — _Don’t be ridiculous Kyungsoo, there’s nothing there_ ) that makes him relax and speak comfortably. “It’s actually my major,” he confesses.  
  
  
Somehow that fact leads to questions, which leads recounting favorite books, which leads to reciting passages and poems, and ends in childhood memories: Kyungsoo remembering how he first discovered his love for literature, and Jongin remembering how he preferred to stay indoors and read rather than play outside with the other children.  
  
  
“It’s kind of funny,” Jongin says. Sometime during their conversation, more people gathered onto the train. There’s a vague scent of perfume and cologne in the air. In the distance, just a few seats away, there’s the sound of someone popping their gum. Muffled music can be heard from just across from them, some teen not much younger than them trying to go deaf.  
  
  
Yet, all Kyungsoo smells is that damn passion fruit shampoo, much stronger than the smell of people crowded around him in 72-degree weather. And all Kyungsoo hears is the sound of Jongin’s voice, deep and lively with a hint of excitement in the way that he speaks. “I love literature, but I’m actually studying photography and visual arts. Around the time that my parents bought me a camera, I stopped reading as much as I used to. It was a last minute gift, really—something cheap and low quality. It wasn’t even something that I considered asking for, but I fell in love with it. I was 13 at the time.”  
  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t know much about photography or art. He knows the basics—click the button and a picture is snapped. Click the plus to zoom in, minus to zoom out. He knows how to draw stick figures if that can even count as art. He can draw a somewhat decent flower. He used to draw them all over his cousin Baekhyun’s notebooks when they were younger. (Kyungsoo got bored, Baekhyun liked flowers). And no, Kyungsoo’s never really had an interest in art, but he can appreciate the amount of talent it takes to produce something so beautiful.  
  
  
However, Kyungsoo takes an interest in the fact that Jongin likes it; suddenly finding himself interested at the thought of graphite, acrylic, and artists he only vaguely recalls the name of.  
  
  
“Oh? You must be talented.”  
  
  
“Well, I’m no da Vinci, but I’m not bad either.”  
  
  
“Humble.” Jongin chuckles at that, a pleasant sound that tickles at Kyungsoo’s ears.  
  
  
They learn little things about each other; like the fact that Jongin is minoring in Mandarin (“because I like the language,” was his answer when Kyungsoo asked why), and the fact that he takes the train to get to the grocery store where he works to pay for his portion of rent. He also learns that Jongin tutors middle school kids in Algebra and that he’s practically a math genius (like fucking mathematician level, what the hell?), but he also hates it and, well, “Algebra is the easiest math subject.”  
  
  
Kyungsoo couldn’t help it when he slipped up at the news of Jongin’s many talents, letting out a “Holy shit, you’re smart” that made Jongin laugh out loud.  
  
  
(And Jongin is pretty cute when he laughs. As in, when he’s _really_ laughing, not just chuckling lightly. He claps his hands together, a little aggressive as he does so. His smile is wider, his eyes crinkle into little crescents, there are wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. Kyungsoo may or may not have committed that image to memory.)  
  
  
Their conversation runs smoothly, the people around them fading into the background, time nonexistent in a world where just the two of them reside. It isn’t long before they’re quickly approaching their stop. Time suddenly reminds them of its existence, reality crashing into them and shattering the imaginary realm they created. It’s just before they reach their stop that Kyungsoo brings up the subject of Jongin studying Mandarin.  
  
  
“You should teach me,” he says. Jongin is still smiling ( _God damn, does he ever stop smiling… I hope he doesn’t_ ).  
  
  
“Okay.” Jongin’s hand makes for Kyungsoo’s and he has to resist the urge to pull away out of reflex. He watches as Jongin pulls a marker out of his bag. It isn’t until a purple sharpie is uncapped and halfway towards inking his arm that he interrupts.  
  
  
“This will wash off,” he comments. Jongin looks up at him, their eyes meeting once again. “How can I remember it if it washes off?”  
  
  
“What, you want me to write it in your book?” He gestures towards his lap and that’s when Kyungsoo remembers the book he was reading for class. He’d forgotten all about it, too immersed in Jongin. And then there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You want me to write it in your book so you can keep it forever, don’t you?” He accuses. “You want something to remember me by.”  
  
  
Kyungsoo makes a noise (that definitely doesn’t sound like he’s choking), taken aback by how forward Jongin is. And in his misery, Jongin is snickering. He stares—stunned by the sight, and overwhelmed—until he regains his composure and fires back.  
  
  
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.” Jongin pauses, looks up at him, and grins wide and bright.  
  
  
“Alright.” He takes the book and flips to the title page where there’s enough space to write. “I’ll leave something to remember me by.” His handwriting is a jumbled mess; hasty and hard to read. And as if he’s trying to be smug, he signs his name and hands it over to Kyungsoo with that same glint in his eyes.  
  
  
He starts by pointing at the first character, eyes on Kyungsoo as he pronounces it slowly, urging for Kyungsoo to follow. He follows along by repeating the words until he pronounces them correctly. When he does finally get it right, Jongin gives him a proud smile.  
  
  
“What does it mean?” Kyungsoo asks.  
  
  
“It means ‘a coincidence destined by heaven’. It’s pretty cliché, I heard it once and I don’t know… I guess I’m just really into that kind of thing.”  
  
  
“Oh. It’s pretty.” He looks down at the words and runs fingers over the writing, letting the meaning sink into his memory.  
  
  
The train is pulled to a stop then. The electric doors slide open, and strangers shuffle to make their way off. Their smiles drop only momentarily as they are once again brought back to the world around them. There’s a look on Jongin’s face, one that Kyungsoo thinks he must be imagining because his smile is strained and disappointment is dancing in his eyes. It’s a thought that gives a weird feeling; a feeling that he doesn’t want to say aloud because it’s so cliché he thinks he might die.  
  
  
They say their goodbyes and when Kyungsoo exits the train, feet meeting the concrete flooring, he suddenly feels alone. The halogen lights are bright above him, his hand clutches the book he holds, and he makes his way up the stairs of the station and out into sunlight.  
  


  
///

  
  
  
**September**  
  
  
September comes with a gush of warm air, cool nights, and leaves coloring from a vibrant green to shades of muted reds, yellows, oranges, and browns. It’s the first hint of Autumn.  
  
  
Kyungsoo and Jongin spend every day from August and well into September meeting on the subway and talking until they reach their stops. In the mornings they’ll walk together until they reach the end of their shared path, both having to go their separate ways to get to class. Kyungsoo spends his entire day on campus, studying and attending classes and sometimes working on assignments. He doesn’t see Jongin between the time they exit the train together to the time that they both meet on the train later that afternoon. And when they do meet again, they pick up where they left off in conversation.  
  
  
Jongin is always smiling, always bright.  
  
  
Kyungsoo decides that Jongin looks strangely good in yellow hoodies, sleeves pulled to reach just the tips of his fingers. Jongin is taller than him by only a few inches, and yet he seems much smaller in comparison. He’s childlike in the way that he lights up when talking, laughs enthusiastically, and coos at whatever he finds adorable—whether it is puppies (which Jongin can identify breeds like he can identify colors), couples displaying way too much vanilla and fluffy PDA, or small stuffed bears that children clutch to their sides. He’s weird, but not in an overbearing or exaggerated way. He’s weird because he’s young and mature in ways Kyungsoo didn’t think possible.  
  
  
Kyungsoo learns more about Jongin in the passing days, until eventually learning about one another turns into small talk and complaints about classes or work load. He gets mesmerized when they talk, so immersed that he becomes less aware of his surroundings until someone or something breaks their hold on one another.  
  
  
It serves true now, as they ride the train to their stops in the late afternoon. The words exchanged are nothing but mundane, the conversation drifting into silence when Kyungsoo gives a simple hum in agreement. They’re sitting next to each other, that waft of passion fruit shampoo invading his senses, and melting into his heart, creating an odd sense of comfort and familiarity. It’s only been a month yet he’s grown comfortable in everything that is Jongin.  
  
  
And it’s a little stupid. Kyungsoo knows that it’s stupid. He knows he should go home, maybe work on that ten-page essay that’s due in only a few days (the one that he’s been procrastinating with writing). He knows that his mother will be expecting him when she gets back from work. He knows, and yet he finds himself staying next to Jongin even after the train has arrived at their station.  
  
  
Jongin rests his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, eyelids slipping closed and mouth opening in a yawn. “Tired,” he says. And he looks so beautiful like this: skin bright from the lights above them, and his lips soft. Kyungsoo doesn’t realize that he’s staring until Jongin sighs.  
  
  
Peaceful. He looks so peaceful.  
  
  
Time passes by in nothing but silence as Jongin sleeps quietly and comfortably. Kyungsoo’s own eyelids begin to grow heavy with the threat of sleep. Eyes blink closed. There’s nothing but black for a second, but then they open to see the window as the sky outside begins to darken. That’s when it hits him just how late it is and that he has a shit ton of assignments waiting for him, and chores that were supposed to have been finished a long time ago. And more importantly, they can’t stay on the train all day when the route is coming to an end. The station has to close eventually.  
  
  
Jongin nuzzles at Kyungsoo’s neck, a reminder of his presence, hot breath warming his skin. He sighs in his sleep, and Kyungsoo gently tries to wake him. “Hmmm?” He hums.  
  
  
“Wake up, come on. We have to get off soon.” Jongin whines like a little kid; telling him that he doesn’t want to get up. It’s endearing and sweet but they have to go, and so he shoves Jongin off in an attempt to get him to wake up. He jerks awake, straightening up in alarm and slouches when he sees that it’s just Kyungsoo.  
  
  
“You’re so cruel,” he complains, sleep in his voice, making his words come off as raspy. How long had he been asleep? How long have they been sitting in the same spot?  
  
  
“Look,” he says as he points towards the window. “We… We missed our stop. It’s late out, and we have to go.”  
  
  
“Oh.” He releases a yawn and they’re met with silence again, waiting for the train to pull to a stop so that they can go home.  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo takes the bus home. He sits alone, staring out the window with headphones in, watching the scene pass him by in shades of blue, purple and black; bright lights flash beams of white onto the sidewalk, onto nameless faces and bricked buildings. He watches until he reaches the stop closest to his house and walks the rest of the way. The streetlights light up the city as he walks, and in that moment, he finds himself thinking about Jongin. He thinks about how much he liked how close they were earlier. He thinks about him like a lovesick fool until he arrives home and passes out in his bed, pretending that the amount of homework and chores waiting for him are nonexistent.  
  
  


///  


  
  
Kyungsoo pauses his music out of reflex, body jumping at the feeling of someone’s head resting on his shoulder. It doesn’t take long for him to figure out that it’s Jongin’s black hair brushing at his cheek, the smell of passion fruit shampoo all too familiar, all too enticing. He can hear, _feel_ , as Jongin giggles, soft and sweet and childlike. But Kyungsoo’s heart is racing from being startled, from the brief fear that passed through his body and slammed into his chest.  
  
  
“What the fuck!” Kyungsoo exclaims without thinking. Heads turn towards their direction, and some elderly woman is glaring at him. Kyungsoo grows shy from the sudden attention. Jongin isn’t giggling anymore, he’s outright _laughing_. He sits up with an arm clutched over his stomach.  
  
  
It’s entirely too loud. Someone’s grumbling about the noise, but Kyungsoo doesn’t care for the passenger’s comfort or the supposed lack of manners. All he can think about is the brilliant smile Jongin is wearing and the beautiful sound of his laughter. Kyungsoo’s lips are turned upward into a thoughtful smile, pleasant and adoring, admiring the sight before him. And it all happens in only a matter of 3 minutes, yet time seems to move slowly until finally, Jongin calms down.  
  
  
“You should’ve seen your face,” he says. Kyungsoo suddenly snaps out of his momentary daze, the heads around them returning to their own lives now that the sound has died down. His smile fades into a slight frown at being made fun of, but he doesn’t find himself truly offended. Jongin is playful, Kyungsoo likes playful.  
  
  
“You trying to kill me is funny?” Jongin has that goddamn blinding smile on his face again, and it’s so goddamn warming that Kyungsoo can’t keep the corner of his own lips from tugging upwards.  
  
  
“A little,” Jongin responds.  
  
  
Kyungsoo would retaliate, maybe tease him or something—but all thoughts are pulled to a halt when Jongin’s head is back to Kyungsoo’s shoulder, and he’s suddenly nuzzling against his skin like a puppy, and it’s so cute, so endearing, and so _Jongin_.  
  
  
“What, is my neck a pillow or something?” He can’t keep himself from saying it, trying to mask the endearment from his tone. It’s suddenly just the two of them again, revisiting the realm that they had created—the realm that they are constantly finding themselves immersed in. He’s not thinking about whether the people around them are uncomfortable with the amount of affection. All he can think about is Jongin and how much he enjoys his company and the close contact.  
  
  
His fingers itch to run through Jongin’s hair. Jongin wraps his arms around him like he’s trying to pull him as close as possible. “’m tired Kyungsoo, let me use you,” he mumbles. Kyungsoo tries to pretend that there is nothing suggestive in those words. Instead, focuses on the tired, groggy tone in his voice. He yawns and it’s quiet. Kyungsoo is hyperaware of the heat of Jongin’s palm that is burning his side despite the grey sweater he’s wearing.  
  
  
Kyungsoo gives in and lets his fingers reach up and comb through Jongin’s hair; soft, slightly damp from what he can only assume was a shower. Passion fruit is much stronger now, the scent pumping his heart till it is ten times its previous size. They remain still and quiet until Jongin speaks to break the silence between them. “I got in trouble yesterday.”  
  
  
“You did?” Jongin pulls away from his shirt and repositions himself so that they aren’t cuddling anymore (he may or may not have been enjoying it just a little too much), and rests the back of his head against the wall. “Why?” Kyungsoo asks, eyes watching every one of Jongin’s movements. He suddenly misses the scent of passion fruit.  
  
  
“Hmm…” Jongin hums, eyes closed and sunlight bleeding onto his skin. It’s now, in the clear and naked lighting, that Kyungsoo notices the dark bags under Jongin’s skin. “My boss yelled at me for missing my shift at the store. I almost got fired, but he said he’ll let it slide as a warning since I’ve never cause trouble before. It’s a good thing that I’m one of his favorites.”  
  
  
“Oh? Did you tell me this just to brag?” Jongin chuckles. He opens his eyes—the whites of them colored red from tiredness—and turns his head to look at Kyungsoo.  
  
  
“No,” Jongin says, a grin breaking out. “Maybe,” he corrects. The conversation isn’t special. It isn’t significant, isn’t even worth caring about—but it’s casual and comfortable. Even when he’s tired and his voice doesn’t have that usual excitement to it—because he’s most likely not feeling like himself—Jongin is still the same, still so playful. And it’s something weird; sends a strange feeling to Kyungsoo’s gut. He doesn’t hate it.  
  
  
And Kyungsoo kind of really wants to know Jongin better. He wants to see more of the person that wears his heart on sleeve. Because Jongin isn’t shy about talking to strangers. He isn’t shy about touching, no matter how other people perceive those touches. He isn’t shy about being his wholehearted self. And Kyungsoo thinks he can get used to this, wants to get used to this.  
  
  
God, he’s in too deep; as if he’s stuck in quicksand. It’s purple like the color Jongin claims to love, and unsurprisingly smells like passion fruit. The sand consumes half of his body. He’s being consumed so quickly despite the short amount of time that he’s spent with Jongin. But Jongin pulls him in with his charms, and his smile, and his frustratingly endearing personality, and his beautiful laugh, and his quirks. Kyungsoo can’t help the way that he’s sinking.  
  
  
“Sorry about that by the way…” He doesn’t understand why he feels the need to apologize. But he does anyway. Jongin shakes his head as if to tell him not to worry about it.  
  
  
“It’s alright. I like talking to you. I always like talking to you.” There’s a pause. Jongin looks down, a faint and barely-there pink coloring in the tanned skin of Jongin’s cheeks. It places itself among the acne scars, and the little scar from a past cut that never got stitches. It’s embarrassment: the first time he’s ever seen Jongin in such a state. Jongin hesitates, toys with Kyungsoo’s fingers ( _When did he grab my hand?_ ). “I like being with you too.”  
  
  
There’s another moment of silence where Kyungsoo’s heart leaps and his eyes widen. His brain can’t find words—it isn’t even _functioning_ —and Jongin is biting at his lips like he’s nervous. Finally, Jongin looks up at him, their eyes meet—chocolate brown irises that are absolutely gorgeous. Kyungsoo isn’t the one to speak. “Sorry, was that weird to say?” A nervous laugh. Kyungsoo’s hand feels cold when it loses the warmth of Jongin’s fingers.  
  
  
“It’s fine,” Kyungsoo says quickly. But Jongin is still shy, still looks uncertain with his eyes looking elsewhere and his cheeks still pink. He isn’t convinced, but Kyungsoo wants him to be convinced, wants him to know that it’s okay and that he maybe-sort of-kind of feels the same. (And, okay, he definitely does. God, he fucking feels the same and it’s a nuisance, _embarrassing_ , because he finds himself looking forward to every weekday morning where he will get to see the one person he’s been missing. So fucking embarrassing.)  
  
  
“No really,” he says. “it’s not weird. And… And I like talking to you too.” Their cheeks are matching; he can feel it. He hates it. Hates how he is so young—how they’re so young. It’s inevitable, this feeling. It’s the fluffy, cliché bullshit that comes with the beginnings of young love. He laughs awkwardly, hoping to rid the atmosphere of its weird tension. Then Jongin is smiling again, albeit it’s small—a mixture of bashful, flattered, and reassured—and he changes the topic with a question of what book Kyungsoo is reading for class.  
  
  
So Kyungsoo talks, and Jongin listens until a conversation is born.  
  
  
“You know, we only ever talk on the train,” Jongin comments. Kyungsoo nods in agreement. “I haven’t given you my number. We should break that barrier.”  
  
  
That’s how Kyungsoo ends up with Jongin’s number written in purple sharpie on the inside of his arm where his sweater sleeve can cover it. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what it is—whether it’s just Jongin rubbing off on him, or if he’s just feeling particularly playful today—but he finds himself taking the sharpie, and pushing the collar of Jongin’s red hoodie down to expose his collarbones, and a hint of his chest. He glances up to see Jongin’s face, and is met with amusement dancing within pupils, and tugging at plush lips (they’re tinted pink from the strawberry chapstick Jongin had applied earlier).  
  
  
It takes about two seconds, digits scribbled in purple, unsteady writing on the skin of Jongin’s chest. It’s strangely satisfying, a pleased smile taking shape on his lips. “Now we can talk more,” Jongin says. “And there won’t be any repeats of yesterday.”  
  
  
Those words slip their way into Kyungsoo’s chest, making him feel all funny and cliché again. He likes it, likes how they’re one step closer. Likes how they’re becoming something more—something like friends. And… well… If Kyungsoo hopes for something a little further than friendship, he doesn’t admit it to himself.  


  
  
///  
  


  
**October**  
  
  
Truth be told, Kyungsoo isn’t much of a texter. He uses emoticons that are outdated ( _“seriously, who the hell uses ‘XD’ anymore, Kyungsoo?”_ Is what Baekhyun had complained one day, criticizing his lack of skills), he always uses proper grammar (yes; semicolons, punctuation, and colons included), he never uses short-hand text, and doesn’t even understand half of them, and he is brief in his responses. All in all, he’s terrible at texting, and it has caused multiple complaints from Baekhyun wherein he compares him to a grandpa.  
  
  
Kyungsoo has his quirks. But Jongin doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s much better at texting than Kyungsoo is. His responses are fast, lengthy at times. And Kyungsoo doesn’t text much, never really texts unless it’s Baekhyun that’s sending him messages about how he has to respond _now_ , or his mom telling him that she’ll be home late. Yet, Kyungsoo finds himself responding to Jongin in record time (30 seconds after he receives the message because 10 seconds will make it seem like he’s sitting by the phone, just waiting for a response (he is)), and he enjoys it—thoroughly enjoys it.  
  
  
They text their way well into October where the trees begin to shed their leaves, the cold finds purchase in the daytime, candy goes on sale, and pumpkins are every-fucking-where. Jongin tells him that he likes to color-code with the different months. “Muted oranges are my favorite; it’s what I wear the most during October,” he had said. Kyungsoo didn’t think it was weird but Jongin insisted—with the little habit he has of turning his gaze away whenever he’s feeling timid—that he must think it is.  
  
  
Jongin is fascinating, indeed. The more time that they spend together, the more Kyungsoo notices that Jongin is a lot shyer than he originally believed. He’s outgoing for the most part but when it comes to his insecurities, the spotlight exposing every bit of his quirks, he clams up. He’s shameless when it comes to reiterating how much he loves talking to Kyungsoo, shameless when he snuggles up into Kyungsoo’s side and presses his nose against the skin of his neck, shameless when he teases and makes sexual jokes (which he does a lot). But he’s shy when he catches himself toying with Kyungsoo’s fingers, shy when he admits that he’s a huge Twice fanboy, shy when Kyungsoo gifts him a pack of strawberry chapstick because Jongin had whined and pouted when he lost his own.  
Fascinating. Cute. Endearing.  
  
  
Those words seem to perfectly describe Jongin. Kyungsoo likes it… he likes the way he can see these different sides. He likes that he’s learning more, understanding more. Jongin gains more depth every time they meet; every time they talk and laugh together, and smile at each other.  
  


  
///

  
  
  
**November**  
  
  
November bleeds into December at a pace much too fast for Kyungsoo’s liking. The year is nearly over. There’s only one month remaining and a new semester just around the corner. And during this month, Kyungsoo finds time between weekends, neglected classwork, and screaming deadlines to talk to Jongin.  
  
  
In fact, Kyungsoo’s gotten much better at this texting thing. He thinks Jongin is rubbing off on him when he actually starts pulling up the emoji keyboard like it’s second nature, sending the little sideways laughing one with tears in its eyes—his favorite. (It reminds him of the way Jongin looks when he laughs. When he had told Jongin this, he had only laughed and said that the glasses emoji reminds him of Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo may or may not have smiled at that.) He’s even started to cut down on the use of punctuation.  
  
  
In fact, he had gotten so good at texting—and so affected by Jongin—that Baekhyun had started accusing him of being different these days.  
  
  
( _“Seriously, what have you done with Kyungsoo? You don’t even smile the same! You’re all hearts everywhere, blinding people with your pearly ass teeth. It’s disgusting.”  
  
  
“Shut up, Baekhyun.”_ )  
  
  
He falls deeper, that quicksand now up to his chest, and he knows it. He can feel it, and it’s not as frightening as it should be. He likes this feeling: the feeling of Jongin clinging to him, all eye smiles and loud laughs. He likes the way Jongin makes his heart feel funny sometimes. He likes how he can’t seem to stop thinking about Jongin, and how he really, really likes it when he talks. He’s quiet himself, and Jongin can be quiet too—in those moments where he’s too tired (and he’s always tired, always resting his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder and sometimes nuzzling his face into his neck, his cheek, his chest), when he is concentrating. But Jongin also initiates conversations, likes to ask questions and go off on tangents, likes to speak about whatever comes to mind.  
  
  
Kyungsoo is sinking. But it doesn’t feel as suffocating as it should, even if he sometimes wants to tell Jongin that he could listen to him talk for the rest of his life, or how he likes it the most when their hands are touching, or how he sometimes makes him feel like his heart is going to melt with the amount of affection that he receives.

 

 

///

  
  
  
  
**December**  
  
  
Somewhere between train rides, busy stations, ticket numbers, and the blurred faces of strangers—Kyungsoo finds his way into Jongin’s home.  
  
  
It’s an unusual feeling, being in someone else’s home. Standing in the threshold of Jongin’s apartment—the dark hardwood flooring cold against the soles of his feet, the room chilly from the air outside, and the entry way that ends in a room full of furniture—is noticeably foreign. Jongin is all smiles while Kyungsoo examines the room without moving. He notices the smell first. Of course the smell is the first to hit his senses; a gust of something floral (lavender, perhaps?) creeping up his nose and registering as pleasant; welcoming. Kind of like that goddamn shampoo.  
  
  
The second thing he notices is the sound of a television and shouting from someone he doesn’t recognize. And then Jongin speaks, shy in the way he chuckles like he’s embarrassed. “That’s Sehun,” he says.  
  
  
“Oh.” Kyungsoo remembers when Jongin had mentioned he had a roommate.  
  
  
“Sehun!” He shouts, like they’re not indoors. Kyungsoo winces and plugs his ears, shooting a glare at him. Jongin only grins and shrugs in response.  
  
  
“What?!” The sounds stop. Kyungsoo follows Jongin as he leads him down the entry way and to the living room.  
  
  
“I’m home, I brought a guest.” There’s a table that sits in the hallway, dark black wood with a single drawer that has a bronze handle. Air freshener and a variety of scented candles sit on the surface. “Sehun likes the smell of that,” Jongin says when he notices Kyungsoo reading the labels; pumpkin spice, lemon scented, and the lavender scented air freshener. “He hoards a bunch of scented candles in his room, too; caramel, cinnamon, apple, gingerbread. He likes that kind of stuff.” Jongin tells him about how he’s sensitive to smells, and can only handle a few scents. The air freshener is one of his limits, and the scent reminds him of his sister that he doesn’t get to see. “Her job requires for her to leave the country frequently. We only see each other every few months.”  
  
  
Sehun is sitting on the single couch when they enter the living room. It’s a black leather; a stark contrast to the white walls and dark hardwood flooring. Their space isn’t huge. There’s a glass sliding door across from the couch with a distance of maybe 5 bodies. A balcony rests just behind those glass doors, a scene of the city in the distance and a neighborhood park. The balcony isn’t that big either, it’s narrow and the white banister is chipping. There’s a television shoved into the corner of their livingroom, right next to the hallway that leads to what can only be assumed as their bedrooms, and a video game paused on the screen as music fills the room. In the other corner, there’s a table shoved there with picture frames. The walls have shelves with medals, a small portrait, a few more pictures.  
  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t realize he’s staring until he hears Sehun speak up. “So, Kyungsoo, right?” Kyungsoo nods, turning his attention towards Sehun. He only now takes in his face. He looks bored, and if he didn’t know that they live in a small and cheap apartment, he’d think the guy was some spoiled brat with endless money to spend. His hair is dyed blonde; he sits with an air of confidence. But Jongin had talked about him before. He had said that Sehun’s often misjudged because of his resting expression and his confidence. ( _“It’s not a bad thing to be confident,”_ Jongin had explained. _“I kind of wish that I was as confident as he is sometimes.”_ ) Jongin talked about Sehun as if he were a boy talking about the older brother he looks up to, despite the fact that Jongin is older by one year.  
  
  
“Kyungsoo, this is Sehun. Sehun, this is Kyungsoo.” Jongin says, a little late in his introduction. But he’s rubbing the back of his neck, shy and embarrassed. It’s cute; always so cute.  
  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t get to stay and talk to Sehun a little more, because he’s asking to see Jongin’s art work, and is then lead down the hallway. It’s dim, the lights switched off, and the walk short.  
  
  
Kyungsoo’s never really entertained the thought of what Jongin’s room must look like. It was never something of importance, and so he doesn’t know what to expect when Jongin leads him down the narrow hallway—Sehun’s shouting in the distance as his game resumed—and into his room.  
  
  
With the flip of a light switch, the room is suddenly doused in a warm light. Canvases cover the expanse of a wall, framed photographs hung up in a variety of spots. The space isn’t too large; it fits his bed pressed up against the wall, a desk with a laptop open to what looks like photoshop with an image of a yellow bird uploaded, and there is enough space between the two for a mat where a canvas and palettes sit. The canvas is painted blue; a variety of pinks, greens, and orange colored acrylic paint spread out.  
  
  
“I don’t always paint in here,” Jongin says. Kyungsoo diverts his gaze away from the canvas and towards Jongin. “I have an art studio down the hall that I use but I keep all of my art for assignments in here.”  
  
  
Kyungsoo catches sight of one of the images that Jongin must have photographed: a blue flower with a butterfly sitting perfectly on the petal, the light hitting at just the right angle to make the complimentary colored wings shine.  
  
  
It’s simply beautiful; all of it is. He takes a moment to walk around the space, taking in each piece of art, and feeling his heart swell with admiration. “Wow,” is all that Kyungsoo can say. He bends down to look at one canvas with a painting of the park he remembers seeing outside their balcony. It’s different, more destroyed like something out of a dystopian movie; abandoned, dark, with greys and blacks and ugly greens. “Wow,” he says again. He stands up and looks at Jongin. “Wow.”  
  
  
“Wow,” Jongin copies with a grin. And if Kyungsoo’s not mistaken, he looks pleased. Pride and relief are mixed and etched into the emotion on his face and in his body language.  
  
  
“Don’t get cocky,” Kyungsoo teases. But Jongin’s still grinning, practically smirking. “You should paint me.”  
  
  
Jongin laughs then, more of a chuckle. “Hell no,” he says between laughs. “Painting people is too stressful.” He goes to take up the canvas that’s on the floor, along with the tubes of paint and the paintbrushes. He moves them to his bed, most likely afraid that they might get damaged.  
  
  
It’s a little later that they find themselves sitting on Jongin’s floor with their backs against the bedframe, simply talking like they would on the train. The light outside the window is orange, the room darkening as the sun retreats and the moon rises.  
  
  
“My art is going to be put on display,” Jongin says suddenly. Kyungsoo goes wide-eyed with surprise and a smile makes its way onto his lips. He looks at Jongin with a rush of proud feelings hitting at once, and Jongin is just as proud. “I meant to tell you earlier… But do you, uhm… Do you want to go? It’s not that great. It’s pretty lame, actually. I mean, it’s not like it’s some fancy exhibition or anything. It’s really just an assignment and like, the professor is putting up artwork to showcase for incoming freshman so that they can talk about the program. But, you said that you like my art work, and really, you don’t have to go. Even Sehun isn’t going. Not-not that he doesn’t want to go. He has to work and—”  
  
  
“Jongin,” Kyungsoo says. His smile settles into something smaller, but warmer; reaching his eyes where affection and care is displayed. He’s never seen Jongin talk this fast, his words a jumbled and stumbled mess of hasty excuses and explanations. It’s a new level of shy and nervousness that he’s never seen before; a new layer of Jongin. Jongin shuts up at the sound of Kyungsoo’s voice and bites at his bottom lip, toying with the flesh between his teeth. “I’ll go.”  
  
  
He releases his lip in favor of beaming despite the way he tries to hold it back. “Yeah?” He asks.  
  
  
“Of course.” And the silence that ensues is calming, yet the emotion and gratitude within it weighs down on them. The atmosphere is weird. Kyungsoo can’t help it when he grabs at Jongin’s hand, but Jongin doesn’t mind. Jongin’s always the one playing with his fingers anyways; making fun of how big his hand is, complimenting on how smooth and soft his skin is compared to his own dryer hands ( _”I fucking hate dry skin,”_ he’d complain).  
  
  
Sehun bursts in at some point. It’s not as though the room door was closed for privacy. But Kyungsoo had, once again, forgotten about the world around them. The sound of Sehun’s video game and shouting were drowned out by the soft tone of Jongin’s voice when he speaks. His voice changes when it’s evening. He’s less excited; calms when the sun hides itself. It’s something small, insignificant, and nothing that anyone should care enough to take note of. But Kyungsoo does. He always notices the little things about Jongin, and he always cares about them. Because they’re all a part of Jongin.  
  
  
“Karaoke,” Sehun says. He points at the both of them and then points behind him, gesturing for them to go to the living room. “Let’s do it.”  
  
  
Kyungsoo jumps up, excited and uncaring as he takes Jongin by the hand, and follows Sehun into the livingroom. The light above them is dim; a mix of blue and purple emitting from the television. Sehun hands them microphones, and pulls up the song list. When he passes a familiar song, Kyungsoo is shouting for him to stop at the same time that Jongin does and they both pause to look at each other. Sehun rolls his eyes but smiles anyways.  
  
  
“Fine, fine. Jongin always plays this song, it’s so fucking annoying.” Kyungsoo is looking at Jongin again, as if to ask _“You like this song too?”_. His question goes unnoticed when the song begins, and Sehun and Jongin starts butchering it with off-key notes and shouting, purposely singing it terribly. Kyungsoo watches, entertained and forgetting about the microphone in his hand.  
  
  
It’s by the second chorus that Jongin pulls at his arm, and asks him to join them. “Come on, try it.” And Kyungsoo sighs, forces down whatever feeling of embarrassment might threaten to rise, and joins in. He’s awkward. He isn’t used to singing off-key. In fact, he’s not that bad of a singer, but Jongin’s encouraging him with the squeeze of his hand, and amusement in his eyes, and Kyungsoo continues through it, no longer caring.  
  
  
Karaoke slows into something more serious when they get tired of screaming into the mic. Kyungsoo sings a romantic ballad that has Sehun clapping enthusiastically when it’s ended, saying something about how it made his heart flutter and how he almost fell for him. Kyungsoo finds himself lowering his gaze, flattered and shy at the compliment.  
  
  
When karaoke has ended, they find themselves sitting on the couch to watch a movie. Jongin is curled into Kyungsoo’s side like he’s some kind of pillow, just like he does when they’re on the train, and he’s tired. He whispers a compliment about Kyungsoo’s voice, tells him that it’s nice and how he should be an RnB singer if he ever grows tired of literature.  
  
  
Sehun comes in with popcorn, filling the room with the smell of butter, and sits on the other side of Kyungsoo. He hands over the popcorn bowl so everyone can easily reach, and when he’s curling into Kyungsoo’s other side, too, Jongin reaches out to swat at him. “Go away, he’s my pillow,” he whines. Cute.  
  
  
“He’s big enough for two, shut up.”  
  
  
“I’m not a pillow!” Kyungsoo complains, but his words lack any heat or irritation. Still, he shoves them both off, and Sehun whines just as much as Jongin does. He only gets half a second to miss the warmth of Jongin before he’s back to resting on him.  
  
  
After the movie, Sehun retreated to his room to sleep. He said something about having an early shift and bid them goodnight. Kyungsoo and Jongin stayed on the couch.  
  
  
The sky outside is now a dark blue. The stars are bright in the way that they shine. It’s silent for a while, the television turned off with nothing but the ceiling light on. The rest of the house is dark, just as quiet.  
  
  
“He’s my only friend,” Jongin starts, breaking the silence between them. “He’s my only _real_ friend.” Kyungsoo listens. “Well, you are, too. But I don’t trust easily, you know. And I don’t like having a lot of friends. That’s not me. I like privacy; I like intimate and long relationships more than something short with people that aren’t going to be there when I need them. And Sehun’s always been here.”  
  
  
“And me?” Kyungsoo asks. It’s the first time that Jongin has ever opened up like this. In the few months that they’ve known each other, Kyungsoo never knew what Jongin valued, or who he held close.  
  
  
“And you?” Jongin’s straightening himself up so that he can’t look at Kyungsoo properly.  
  
  
Kyungsoo nods. “What do you think of me?” He clarifies. Sehun is Jongin’s only real friend: someone he trusts greatly. Kyungsoo hasn’t been friends with Jongin for nearly as long as those two have. Yet, Jongin considers him a friend; considers him as a person that fits into the same category as Sehun. He needs to know why, wants to know what’s so special.  
  
  
Jongin’s eyes move to his lap like he’s hesitant and unsure, then returns his gaze to meet Kyungsoo’s eyes once again. “You’re… you’re gentle, kind, and also funny when you want to be. You’re different, a little weird in the way that you talk before thinking, or when you don’t talk at all. And I can never figure out what you’re thinking. Sometimes you look like you have a lot that you want to say, but you never say it. Sometimes you look like you’re in pain.”  
“Do I look like I’m in pain?” Kyungsoo asks, surprised. He never really noticed. He didn’t think that Jongin would notice the little things; the same kind of little things that he notices about Jongin. Like the way that Jongin looks like he’s had his own share of pain. How he’s insecure, yet confident. A weird mix between the two.  
  
  
“Sometimes. It’s more like you’re holding yourself back. You want to say something or do something but you’re scared to do it, or you’re denying yourself the satisfaction of doing it. Like when I do this…” Jongin looks down, and he doesn’t move for a second. He looks like he’s questioning whether or not he should finish what he’s saying. Then he grabs at Kyungsoo’s hands, wraps his hand around his fingers. Kyungsoo’s heart stutters. Jongin looks up again. “Like right now. You’re wearing that look again.”  
  
  
And okay, maybe Jongin knows him better than he thought. Because he wants something, something a little more. Wants to intertwine fingers, kiss at cheeks—at lips. Wants to say that he’s only in pain because he has a friendship that he wants to keep, doesn’t want to spoil it with feelings that are still premature, still developing. Yet… He knows that Jongin knows. He knows what Jongin is hinting at.  
  
  
The air is heavy with a tension. It’s a kind of tension where words rest on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said. Words to confirm that yes, Jongin is right, he wants to do—and _say_ —more. That Jongin _does_ know what he’s thinking, _can_ decipher him so easily.  
  
  
But those words aren’t said.  
  
  
“And you’re quiet,” Jongin says, changing the topic as he lets go of Kyungsoo’s hands. He misses it. “But I like the quiet type.”  
  
  
“It sounds like you’re trying to come onto me.” Jongin smirks, the damn flirt. Kyungsoo shoves him, snickering.  
  
  
Jongin’s smirk settles into a warm smile. “But seriously, I trust you.”  
  
  
And Kyungsoo likes that. Those words resonate with him, his heart absorbing the meaning and making him feel funny. He likes being one of the few people that Jongin lets in.  
  
  
And maybe those words that rests on their tongues will be said one day. But there’s more to learn about each other, more that needs to be said, before they can ever make it past their lips.  
  


  
///  


  
  
The day of the student exhibition comes much faster than anticipated. They’re in the school’s performing arts center, standing in the crowded hallway. It’s filled with groups of people, art that hangs on the walls, and paintings that sit on easels. There’s another room where more art resides but it’s filled with too much chatter, too many strangers, and Jongin is avoiding his professor like the plague.  
  
  
“She’s going to make me talk if I see her,” he says as he grabs hold of Kyungsoo’s hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He leads him away from the crowded hallway, and down a different hallway where the lights are off, implying that it’s off-limits. But Jongin doesn’t seem to care. “I hate talking,” he complains. “And I didn’t prepare for this. She told us at the last minute, and I don’t want to face them.” He gives Kyungsoo an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I know I asked you to come and see my art, and now I’m avoiding it, and you came here for nothing…”  
  
  
“It’s okay.” And it is okay, because the truth is that he doesn’t mind going anywhere if it means he’ll get to spend time with Jongin. And yeah, he wants to see him, and yeah, he likes his company. “Actually, if you want to escape, I know a nearby place that sells hot dogs. We can go and get something to eat?” He offers.  
  
  
He can see the wave of relief that washes over Jongin at the opportunity to ditch. They’re in college—they’re _Sophomores_ to be exact—and yet they’re here, ditching an event like they’re back in high school.  
  
  
Their hands remain intact even as they make their way off campus. It’s so natural that they forget they’re even holding hands, something they don’t even think about.  
  
  
The fast food restaurant isn’t far. It takes 5 minutes to get there by foot, and they spend the walk in silence. When they arrive, Jongin chooses a table by the window.  
  
  
Liking someone is weird. Kyungsoo never thought about giving flowers to Jongin, or serenading him, or marrying and growing old together. No. He cared for the mundane things, cared for the inconsequential things; like holding hands, sitting quietly, talking about books and art and maybe even poetry because he knows Jongin likes to analyze them. His heart skips a beat when they’re a little too close; when Jongin’s a little too heartwarming with his eye smiles and white teeth. It’s a little gross and cliché how he wants to hold Jongin’s hand sometimes, or how he sometimes finds himself thinking about Jongin at the most inconvenient times, or how he can listen to him talk for hours without growing bored.  
  
  
But it’s not all romance and tripping over words, or red-faced embarrassment like the way movies and books portray it as. He was over that weeks ago. His feelings have simmered into simply being fond of Jongin’s existence and wanting him to remain in his life for as long as possible, even if it’s as nothing more than just friends. It’s simmered into wanting something like this: doing something as normal and dull as being close to each other and just talking every day.  
  
  
They eat their hot dogs. Jongin makes fun of the way Kyungsoo is plain for preferring only ketchup and mustard while Jongin prefers to have just about everything except mustard on his own.  
  
  
It’s dark out by the time they leave the restaurant; somewhere between 8 and 9 p.m. But Kyungsoo doesn’t care to pay attention to the time. He cares more about the way that they’re once again holding hands. He cares more about the presence of Jongin beside him.  
  
  
“So, Christmas is coming soon,” Jongin says, nonchalant. The bus stop isn’t far. The benches meant for waiting are only a few feet away. “What are you going to do for Christmas?”  
  
  
They sit down on the bench and wait; the temperature is cold, and the multicolored lights that line buildings and lampposts are shining brightly. “I don’t know, probably nothing. My mom has to work on Christmas so…” He shivers as a particularly cold gust of wind zips past them.  
  
  
“What?!” Kyungsoo nods at the exclamation, confirming that yeah, he’ll be spending Christmas alone. He doesn’t mind it, really. He’s done it before, many times. But then Jongin offers for him to spend Christmas with him and Sehun, and who is he to resist such an offer?  
  
  
And Kyungsoo sometimes wonders what Jongin sees when he looks in his eyes. Like now, eyes on his own, matching, close. They resemble the streetlights and the stars in the way that they are bright. His mind wonders, entertaining the thought. Is it the same thing Kyungsoo sees when he looks at Jongin? Someone with so much beauty, so much heart, and so much depth? Someone special? Jongin’s gaze is soft, too; a little warm. They’re soft in a way that makes Kyungsoo wonder if maybe, just maybe, it means something more. Maybe, just maybe, Jongin sees him as someone more than just a simple friend.  
  
  
But then sound of brakes interrupts his thoughts, breaking the connection that their eyes held as Jongin stands up to get on the bus.  
  


  
///

  
  
  
Kyungsoo stands in front of the bright red apartment door; his beanie placed on his head, a scarf wrapped around his neck in an attempt to somewhat block the cold, and his backpack on his back—filled with his gifts and the clothes he plans to wear tomorrow. He knocks twice, and is met with the sound of rustling and muffled voices. He makes out Sehun shouting _“Jongin!”_ and there’s, loud thump.  
  
  
_“Shut the fuck up, asshole!”_ There’s feet scampering across the floor, like someone is running. Then the door opens, presenting him with an exhausted looking Jongin wearing a smile, his hair a ruffled mess. Kyungsoo eyes him, weirdly.  
  
  
“Uhm, hey Kyungsoo,” Jongin greets. He smooths down his clothes—a pink sweater and a pair of light-washed jeans—as if he’s clearing dirt off of them. His hair is a light brown, now. Kyungsoo doesn’t know when he dyed it, but the warm glow of their hallway lighting is shining down on Jongin and he looks so… beautiful, really. The color compliments him. Jongin opens the door wider, allowing for Kyungsoo to step in. Almost instantly he’s met with the smell of gingerbread, most likely from a candle that Sehun is burning. “Come in,” he says.  
  
  
The second he steps in, he sees Sehun standing not far behind Jongin, with a smile. There are multicolored Christmas lights that line the edges of their ceiling, from the hallway to the living room. When he enters the space of their livingroom, there is a small tree in the corner on the table right next to their sliding glass door. The tree has popcorn strings, a few golden lights, and blue ornaments. Festive. Cute. Except the tree is missing a star.  
  
  
“Uhm…” He turns to look behind him where Sehun and a flustered looking Jongin stand. Sehun smirks, and shoves at Jongin’s back, making him stumble forward. He shoots a glare over his shoulder at him, and Sehun struggles to hold in his laughter. Kyungsoo finds himself, once again, eyeing them weirdly. Their behavior strange. Kyungsoo would question it out loud, but Jongin turns back towards him to continue what he was going to say.  
  
  
“Yeah, we uh… We have this tradition. Sehun’s parents live in another country, so he doesn’t always get to see them.” Sehun nods in agreement with the statement, much calmer and more composed now. “And I don’t really talk to my parents, anymore. The two of us… I told you that he’s my only real friend, but really, we’re family. He’s like my brother. And so we do this thing every Christmas where, instead of a star, we put up a picture and it’s a picture of the two of us. And this year… this year we wanted to know if…” He struggles with the remaining words, fingers toying with the hem of his sweater, and moving to smooth back his bangs. It only makes his hair look worse, and Kyungsoo guesses that’s why it looks so ruffled and messy. “Do you want to be in the picture?” He finally finishes.  
  
  
“It was his idea,” Sehun adds. Jongin once again shoots him a glare, but Sehun is grinning triumphantly like he’s proud of himself. Kyungsoo watches, feeling strangely warm. His eyes have softened into an expression of complete admiration. He hasn’t ever felt this feeling before. It’s something he can’t quite explain. He’s never met anyone quite like Jongin before, either. He suddenly has the urge to kiss his cheek, his heart growing fonder and larger. But he doesn’t. He remains composed—is so goddamn good at it—and keeps smiling.  
  
  
“Of course,” he answers. Jongin’s smile is small but filled with gratefulness and happiness. His eyes are just as soft as they look at each other. Sehun shouts, interrupting the moment and bringing the attention towards him.  
  
  
“I’m going to get the camera!” He runs off, socked feet pattering against the dark hardwood. Kyungsoo briefly worries that he might slip and break his neck. That is, until he realizes that they’re alone, and there’s a weird tension that’s settled into the air.  
  
  
Jongin sits down on the couch, Kyungsoo joins him.  
  
  
“Thanks for inviting me,” he says.  
  
  
He’s only just gotten here. His bag sits on the floor, now, still packed. He feels welcomed. He feels a sense of belonging. Jongin… he makes him feel like home; this foreign apartment feels like home. It’s only been a few months, yet there is something about Jongin, and the way that he makes him feel welcomed. He doesn’t feel like an outsider, doesn’t feel like he’s invading someone else’s home, doesn’t feel like they are two people that haven’t known each other for long.  
  
  
“Thank you for coming,” he responds. “Honestly… I was looking forward to it.” He gives an awkward laugh in an attempt to cover how embarrassed those words make him feel. Jongin isn’t like Kyungsoo. He wears his heart on his sleeves; bares his emotions as if there aren’t any consequences from doing so. He’s not naïve, despite his childlike personality. He’s far from naïve. However, Kyungsoo can never admit those words out loud. He can’t face that embarrassment or vulnerability as easily as Jongin can.  
  
  
But Jongin is rubbing off on him. He finds himself slipping up. He allows for words to slip off his tongue like the smooth slide of ice. “You make me feel like I’m going to die sometimes.”  
  
  
Jongin quiets. Kyungsoo stares down at his hands as they rest in his lap, folded. He doesn’t want to look up, doesn’t want to see Jongin’s reaction, and he can’t help the way that his heart is pounding at his chest like it wants to flee this embarrassing situation. Smooth. Real smooth.  
  
  
“What—” Jongin starts, but his sentence is interrupted when Sehun slides in like he’s some kind of pro snowboarder, pulling to a dramatic stop, his arms stretched out and the polaroid camera in hand. His face is schooled in a concentrated expression just to add to the affect. It kills the moment, Kyungsoo’s words fading into the air.  
  
  
“Camera’s here!” Sehun exclaims as he straightens up. “Sorry it took a while. I couldn’t find it, and I know Jongin hates it when I touch his expensive toys.” He’s grinning, knowingly. Kyungsoo thinks that Sehun knew exactly where the camera was, and he knows damn well that Kyungsoo has practically confessed that Jongin makes him feel warm. And maybe Jongin didn’t understand what he was trying to say, but Sehun sure as hell did.  
  
  
They form a small group. Kyungsoo stands beside Jongin who wraps an arm around him and pulls him in close to make sure that he fits into the shot. The picture comes out sweet; they’re smiling wide and happy like close friends, and Kyungsoo _fits_. He fits so well with the two; fits so well in the frame. It’s like he belongs. Like he’s always been in their lives.  
  
  
Sehun slips the picture onto a small stand that’s meant to fit like a star on the Christmas tree and hands it to Kyungsoo. “Here you go,” he says. “I’m giving you the honor of putting the star on the tree. Usually Jongin and I rock-paper-scissor for it, but it’s your first time here, so go ahead.”  
  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t understand the significance of putting a star on the tree. It’s always been something that he viewed as a childish wish. But he understands the significance of them giving him the privilege, the way that they smile fondly and adoringly as he goes towards the tree. It makes him feel included and wanted. And when it’s done, they clap enthusiastically and exaggeratingly, and Jongin rushes to get the presents from his art studio.  
  
  
There isn’t much said when he’s left alone with Sehun. Sehun goes to turn on the television, and picks up a controller, handing one to Kyungsoo who politely declines. (He’s terrible at video games, really.) But Sehun insists, tells him that it’s FIFA, and Kyungsoo can’t decline playing the only game that he is actually good at.  
  
  
As they’re sitting, waiting for the game to load, Sehun says something that makes him go wide eyed.  
  
  
“Jongin told me that you like FIFA,” he says. “I actually hate it, but he went out and bought it the second you said that you were coming over today because he wanted to play it with you. He said that he wanted you to feel included and not left out when we start playing games, and he wanted to make sure that you had fun today. It’s a little gross, really. He never stops talking about you, and it’s only gotten worse since you visited last time. It’s all “Kyungsoo did this” and “Kyungsoo did that” and “lol you should see what Kyungsoo just sent; he’s so weird”.” Kyungsoo stares as Sehun talks, but Sehun doesn’t spare him a glance. He keeps his eyes on the screen of the television as he sets up a game. “It’s kind of cute too, not gonna lie.”  
  
  
And like some kind of predictable plot trick, Jongin’s the one that interrupts them this time, not even allowing Kyungsoo a word. Except this time, he doesn’t hear what was said. Sehun lights up like the lights on their Christmas tree when he sees the presents.  
  
  
Kyungsoo learns that they aren’t one to gift much. Apparently last year Jongin had bought Sehun a pack of socks that had little Christmas trees all over it. Sehun had gotten Jongin a scarf and a value pack of deodorant. “Four in one; perfect, isn’t it?” Sehun joked, making Kyungsoo laugh as he listened to the stories.  
  
  
Jongin admits that Christmas is actually his favorite holiday because he likes to give, and he likes the sales and the movies. Sehun doesn’t care much for Christmas, but he likes getting gifts, the decorations, and the fact that Jongin lets him light his gingerbread candles—“My favorite scent.”  
  
  
They exchange gifts. This year Sehun gifts Jongin a set of watercolor paint to try out, and Sehun gets a set of candles that’s supposed to smell like the beach. Kyungsoo hates the smell. He scrunches his nose up in distaste when Sehun shoves the ocean blue candle into his face, and asks him to “smell the heavenly scent.” Jongin laughs, falling over and clutching his side when Kyungsoo almost knocks the candles out of his face. Sehun scowls in displeasure at almost having his gift shattered into pieces of glass and wax.  
  
  
The mood begins to tone down when Kyungsoo pulls out his gift. The two go wide-eyed, and their eyes light up. Sehun grabs at the neatly wrapped gift, and tears open the paper while Jongin holds his gift in hand, giving Kyungsoo a look of gratitude and tenderness. Kyungsoo loves it, revels in it. He loves the look of happiness when Sehun unwraps his gift, and sees the video games Kyungsoo had bought. Jongin is just as happy when he finds a set of paintbrushes that Kyungsoo specifically remembers Jongin whining about wanting some time ago (when he thought that Kyungsoo wasn’t listening. When he thought that Kyungsoo didn’t care to hear his ramblings).  
  
  
They thank him. Sehun pulls him into a suffocating hug. He smells like fruit and tobacco—an odd mix—and Jongin pulls him into a hug right after. Kyungsoo’s never felt a full hug from Jongin before. He doesn’t smell like the passion fruit shampoo that Kyungsoo has grown to love. Instead, he smells of peppermint and the chocolate candy that he had been snacking on. His hug is tight. It’s not as suffocating as Sehun’s, but it emits an emotion of gratitude and care and something else that he can’t quite name.

 

  
Jongin is gentle. His hug makes him feel as if he could get used to being wrapped in his arms; makes him wonder if Jongin would fit as easily into his own arms if he were to spoon him—like some kind of puzzle piece.  
  
  
When he’s let go of, the warmth of the heater hits, and yet he feels oddly cold.  
  
  
Jongin and Sehun give him the gift they had bought, both admitting to have pitched in to buy it together. He opens it to see that it’s a set of books from his favorite author. They’re signed. Kyungsoo is suddenly hit with a wave of emotions. He wants to ask how they bought it, where they found it, when they even got it, but words fail to pass his lips. And he knows for a fact that it was Jongin’s idea. He knows that only Jongin knows who his favorite is. Only he would remember.  
  
  
Kyungsoo goes to pull Jongin into a hug, and he was right: Jongin does fit perfectly into his arms.  
  


  
///

  
  
  
**January**  
  
  
It’s snowing. White flurries rain down from the sky, the atmosphere colored cool for the winter. White covers the ground like a warm blanket, the roads coated in salt for drivers, ice crystals hanging from cars and houses.  
  
  
Kyungsoo shivers as he walks towards the station, hugging himself. His breath comes as a fog when he breathes, cheeks and nose colored pink from the cold, and he hates it. It’s in these moments that he thinks about Jongin, knows he gets cold even when it’s 40 degrees out.  
  
  
Jongin is there at the subway station when he arrives, looking just as red as he is. He’s bundled up in a thick jacket, mittens, and a scarf that covers his mouth. He doesn’t have to see to know that Jongin is smiling when he catches sight of him.  
  
  
Jongin waves, shivers, and puts his hands into his pocket as Kyungsoo approaches. “Cold?” He asks, despite not needing to. Jongin nods anyways. He’s too cold to give a remark and, it’s a little cheesy—but Kyungsoo is kind, thoughtful, a worrier, so he can’t help it—he gestures towards the station for them to enter. Down the stairs and into the smell of food, the dim halogen lights, and the busy movement of people around them. He pulls out a thermos from his backpack and hands it to Jongin, a look of sincerity and tenderness reflected in his pupils as he speaks. “It’s hot chocolate. I made it this morning for you to drink, because I know you get cold, and I didn’t have enough to buy any hot chocolate, so this was the next best thing.”  
  
  
Jongin stares at the thermos in his hand for so long that Kyungsoo starts to worry something is wrong. But whatever trance Jongin is in, he snaps out of, and takes the thermos with a smile—which Kyungsoo can assume from the crinkle of his eyes and the slight shine to them. “Thank you,” Jongin says. It comes out muffled by his scarf. Kyungsoo doesn’t admit that he’s dying from the weather and that he’d kill for something warm to drink, but he only had enough to make one. He doesn’t admit that he sacrificed his comfort for Jongin.  


  
  
///

  
  
  
“No way!” Jongin shouts. Kyungsoo shushes him, and glances around at the students studying at the library. Kyungsoo had come here before his creative writing class to do homework. Somehow he had run into Jongin, but the ‘how’ isn’t important. It’s the now, where Jongin is looking at him in awe, and Kyungsoo has given up on finishing his work. “Your birthday is on January 12th?” Kyungsoo nods, not understanding what the big deal is. “Mine is on the 14th!”, he whispers.  
  
  
“It’s like fate,” Kyungsoo says without thinking. He’s too busy putting away his notes in preparation for his next class that’s going to start in 15 minutes. “Like fate wanted us to meet and be together.” When he looks up, Jongin isn’t grinning the way he usually does. His smile is somewhat warmer.  
  
  
“I guess so,” Jongin says, voice quiet as if he is muttering to himself rather than talking to Kyungsoo. And he should really be embarrassed, too. But he can’t bring himself to be, and instead, basks in the adorable way Jongin looks down at the table, as though the patterns and swirls of the wood are more interesting.  
  
  
“I have to go soon.” Jongin finally looks up at him again, the momentary bashful side gone and replaced with excitement and hurry.  
  
  
“We should do something, together,” he says. Kyungsoo nods, leaning down to zip his bag. “For our birthday.” He nods again, standing up and picking his bag up by the strap. “Text me, okay?” Kyungsoo’s lips curl up, and he meets Jongin’s warm eyes.  
  
  
“Of course,” he says, because of course he will. And Jongin relaxes into his seat as Kyungsoo swings his backpack onto his back, and exits the building.  


  
  
///

  
  
  
“Do you think we’ll be any wiser?” Jongin wonders. He’s holding a red solo cup in his hand, fruit punch filled to the brim because neither one of them care for alcohol—despite the fact that Kyungsoo’s mom had shoved two beers into his hands earlier, before Jongin’s arrival, and winked. “I won’t tell anyone,” she had said. _“I know how adolescents are.”_  
  
  
“I doubt it,” Kyungsoo answer as he stares into the red liquid that sits inside his own solo cup. They had decided to celebrate their birthday together. It isn’t a party so-to-speak. Rather, it’s something small and intimate. Kyungsoo’s mom went out to buy cake, moments before Jongin’s arrival. She didn’t even get to meet him. Sehun is here, lying on the floor of Kyungsoo’s living room with his eyes narrowed in concentration as he plays some crossword puzzle.  
  
  
Kyungsoo’s apartment isn’t all that big. With four people in the room, it feels suffocating. (Baekhyun’s also there. He’s sitting on Sehun’s back like he’s some kind of chair. They all had to suffer from Sehun’s whining when Baekhyun sat on him, until finally he gave in. Baekhyun wasn’t moving and Sehun didn’t feel like moving either.) Yet it also feels nice. It’s nothing but close friends, the one person Kyungsoo wants to be with, and a warm tingly feeling that’s comforting and kind. A feeling like the one he had gotten when he was spending Christmas with Sehun and Jongin.  
  
  
Baekhyun glances up from his phone and at the two of them. “People don’t grow wiser with age, they grow dumber and more hostile.” Sehun rolls his eyes and an argument breaks out about aging and wising, and somehow textbook terms are thrown in there. But the bickering is blocked out when Jongin speaks quietly to Kyungsoo. And Kyungsoo’s smiling. He’s smiling because Jongin’s voice is low, deep like his own. Every word is so enticing, immersing him, and he can’t help but listen. Can’t help but to give all of his attention.  
  
  
“I like it… The idea of us spending more birthdays together like this.” Okay, that hits Kyungsoo’s heart in a way that makes it stutter and plummet to his stomach where butterflies can swarm, and now there’s a storm. Fuck.  
  
  
But just then, the front door opens and slams closed, and Mrs. Do shouts her arrival. “I’m home! I have cake!” Sehun scrambles up from off the floor, Baekhyun falling over from the impact—noodle boy isn’t a noodle after all—and his cousin follows after him, taking their noise to the kitchen. Mrs. Do peers her head around the corner from the kitchen, smiling wide.  
  
  
“Jongin,” she says. Jongin stands up, growing shy. He waves and gives an awkward “hi” in response.  
  
  
Mrs. Do comes around the corner to properly greet him, and she’s a kind soul, really. She’s gentle, always has been. She’s young, too. She had Kyungsoo when she was just 16 and unknowing of the world around her.  
  
  
Kyungsoo suppresses a giggle when her hands meet Jongin’s cheeks, his lips puckering as she squishes. She starts gushing about how good looking and cute he is. “You are adorable, really. I can’t believe that we’ve never met before!” Jongin’s eyes glance over at Kyungsoo with a plea for help. Kyungsoo shrugs it off with an evil grin, and watches in amusement as Jongin struggles to keep up with the compliments.  
  
  
Right when he decides that he should really help him out, Mrs. Do finally releases Jongin and drags him to the kitchen where Sehun and Baekhyun are shoving their faces with cake. They sit at the table, Kyungsoo gets plates for the three of them, his mother starts talking about something that makes Baekhyun and Sehun laugh in unison. Jongin starts talking too, and Mrs. Do coos at his voice.  
  
  
Kyungsoo sets the plates down, and sits next to Jongin. He doesn’t know what it is that makes him do it. Jongin looks nervous and he feels slightly bad for not helping out with the earlier situation. But his mother loves to talk, loves to praise; and Jongin’s body is so stiff and uneasy. So, he places a hand on his knee, an innocent gesture. Jongin glances over at him, making Kyungsoo worry. A question whether or not he should remove his hand comes to mind, but then Jongin relaxes and starts talking again.  
  
  
“How do you like the cake?” She asks him. Baekhyun jumps to respond but she shushes him. “Jongin; I was asking Jongin.”  
  
  
“I like it.” He gives a polite smile, she smiles back.  
  
  
Kyungsoo spends more time watching the way Jongin grows comfortable than he does on eating. He can see the way that Jongin adjusts to his mother, can see the way that he is shedding that sheepish side. He doesn’t pay much attention to the conversation at hand. He only answers when he’s spoken to, and sometimes he snaps out of his daze when his name is mentioned.  
  
  
Sometime during the conversation, Mrs. Do had turned her attention towards Sehun to pester him. The hand on Jongin’s knee remains, yet neither of them notice as they speak. Jongin talks to him about the cake, the homework he hasn’t finished, the movie he wants to watch. Kyungsoo listens. He responds occasionally, slowly falling into the world where it is just the two of them. They’re interrupted when Mrs. Do speaks up.  
  
  
“You two are so cute together,” she says. They both turn away from each other to take in the world around them. Sehun is giving Jongin this look that Kyungsoo can’t decipher, and Baekhyun is watching them as though there is something to be seen in their every movement; analyzing them. “My Kyungsoo is so lucky to have you.”  
  
  
Jongin chokes as a faint blush forms, Kyungsoo looks at his mother with wide, alarmed eyes. They turn towards each other, a silent question of what they should say, neither one of them moving. They don’t know how to tell her that they’re not dating, but there is also something more to it. There’s something in the way that they hesitate with matching colored cheeks.  
  
  
There’s something in the way that they look at each other, the way that they care for each other, the way that Jongin holds onto Kyungsoo and nuzzles at his neck. There’s something in the way that Kyungsoo lets Jongin play with his fingers, the way that they remind each other of how they could spend every moment together. They’re not dating. They’re not together. But why does it feel more like they’ve been caught instead of feeling like a simple misunderstanding?  
  
  
Then Jongin speaks, breaking eye contact to look at Mrs. Do. Sehun is still staring, meanwhile, Baekhyun has moved on to taking up empty dishes and setting them in the sink. “Actually, we’re lucky to have each other. He’s good to me… We’re good for each other.”  
  
  
Silence ensues. It’s a split second. Baekhyun almost drops one of the dishes when he starts snickering. Sehun leans back in his chair with a look of satisfaction. Mrs. Do’s smile widens. But Kyungsoo feels like he’s in a different reality, because that is definitely not what he was expecting. Fingers trace the back of his hand beneath the table, and Kyungsoo looks down to see that it’s Jongin. Kyungsoo turns his hand over so that Jongin can interlock their fingers, and they fit… They fit perfectly. They always do.  
  
  
The grip is tight, a sign that Jongin is feeling nervous and a little sheepish. But the others have moved on to a different topic while Kyungsoo struggles to wrap his brain around what just happen. It’s when everyone else has moved to the living room, and the sound of a television begins to filter in through the thin walls, that Kyungsoo finally speaks.  
  
  
“Uhm…” Jongin looks at him but he can’t bring himself to do the same. “Sorry about what she said.” Jongin tightens his grip then loosens it, a signal for Kyungsoo to look up at him. He’s pouting cutely. He isn’t blushing anymore; he’s far from it. In fact, he looks… He looks happy.  
  
  
“Why are you sorry? You don’t want to be my boyfriend?” And it is a sight to see. There’s a hint of an exaggerated whine, Jongin’s lips pocking out like a child—cute and endearing in every way. Kyungsoo chuckles. Within that moment, whatever doubts he may have had begin to disappear. He flicks a finger at Jongin’s bottom lip pout, and smiles at the way that it jiggles and makes a weird sound. Jongin can’t hold back the laugh that spills after that.  
  
  
“Are you telling me that you like me?” Kyungsoo teases. He can’t force away the smile. Not when everything is open now, and the fear of spoiling what has begun to develop is no longer a concern.  
  
  
“Wasn’t it obvious?” He responds. Kyungsoo likes the way that Jongin looks as though he’s glowing; like this is something he’s been wanting for a while.  
  
  
“Extremely.” Kyungsoo doesn’t hesitate with what he says next. The words have always been there, waiting to be said— _begging_ to be said. They slip out so easily, so gracefully. “I like you, too.” There isn’t a trace of regret when he’s met with the warmth in Jongin’s expression; the way that his eyes soften. It melts at Kyungsoo’s heart. He likes the way it makes him feel. _Loves_ it.  
  
  
“It’s about time!” someone shouts. Kyungsoo quickly realizes it’s Sehun, and he can’t help but to agree. Then there’s Baekhyun who shouts out that he’s been shipping them from the start, and he’s known all along. Jongin starts laughing; that real kind that has him leaning onto Kyungsoo as he shakes with laughter and joy, his little eye smile present and beautiful.  
  
  
And Kyungsoo can’t help but to think that yeah, he likes Jongin. He likes Jongin a lot. It doesn’t have to be said for him to know that Jongin feels the same.


End file.
